


Reminiscent

by Vozana666



Series: Bad Romance Duology [2]
Category: Dexter (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hexter, M/M, Serial Killer, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vozana666/pseuds/Vozana666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, the battle is won, and while Ron and Hermione have plans to go back to Hogwarts, Harry has other things in mind. It's time to return to Miami.</p><p>Dexter is working on a case that has rattled Miami - a new case of particularly gruesome serial murders. When Harry turns up, it becomes Dexter's biggest fear that Harry may become involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Reminiscent

 

 

Prologue

 

 

On the crumbling steps leading away from the entrance Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry sat there, looking in the distance, a blank look on his face. So many people had died. He had saved the world. It was finally over –the threats, the violence, the mass murders, the lies, the betrayal -Voldemort. He was gone. Lord Voldemort, The Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, Tom Riddle...gone...and he had been the one to do it.

 

It felt weird, sitting here now, turning the events of the last two years over and over in his head. The trip to Miami, meeting Dexter, learning about Dexter and everything he did for a living – the information that was publicly known amongst others and the information he kept private. Then, Draco’s death – he still felt a pang just thinking about it. But he didn’t know what he preferred – Draco dying in Miami or Draco dying here, now. He shook his head – it was obvious. Here would have been a better option if any. Draco would have died a hero.

 

After the trip himself, Ron and Hermione had returned to Hogwarts. Harry had explained numerous things to Ron and now they were back to being as close as ever – as if their row had never happened. Sixth year had been spent thinking constantly about Draco.

 

_If Draco were alive, what would he be doing right now?_

_Would he still play Quidditch?_

_Would we be out to everyone?_

 

Very moments of the day he pictured Draco sitting at dinner in the Great Hall or in potions, but alas – he was never really there. When caught staring for too long, whichever Slytherin that was actually there would look at him strangely – forcing Harry to turn away and face the reality that Draco was well and truly gone.

 

He turned away from that depressing thought and thought about the other moments in Miami. The memories that came to mind were mainly of him kissing Dexter. Then that one night, where Harry had given in, and done so willingly. It had been truly...magical.

 

Harry blew air harshly out of his nose, as a sort of semi-amused laugh, causing fresh blood to flow out of his nostril. He hated the feeling of his face right now – cut up, dirty, covered in dust, dirt, blood and Merlin knows what else.

 

He felt a hand softly touch his shoulder, as if afraid to startle him. He looked up, and saw Hermione looking at him with a cross between fear and relief.

 

“You’re alive,” she muttered, sitting down slowly beside him, “I just...” she shook her head, “when...when I saw you were dead...”

 

“Wasn’t dead,” Harry mumbled, “just faked it.”

 

She nodded slowly, and looked up. Harry followed her gaze, turning his head to the other side opposite from where Hermione was sitting. Ron staggered down and sat down beside them, grinning sheepishly as a bit of stone from the stairs broke free and tumbled down the rest of the cracked and dirty steps.

 

“We did it,” Ron said, sheepish grin still planted firmly on his face, though with the dirt on his face it looked a little more like a scowl, “it’s finally over...”

 

Harry sighed. Despite that fact he didn’t feel as if some great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Is that what winning a war was supposed to feel like? He didn’t feel lighter – in fact, he felt even heavier. He felt like he was going to be crushed – slowly, tortuously, until he was begging and screaming for death. He was sitting with two people in an open space and yet he had never felt so claustrophobic.

 

“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione had grabbed both of his shoulders and was looking at him with a panicked expression, “Ron, go find – go find someone, I don’t think he’s okay.”

 

“Who do I find?”

 

“I don’t know! Find someone who can help him!”

 

Harry was only vaguely aware of how his breathing had sped up and how short said breaths were. He was grabbing at the stone steps, his finger nails attempting to dig into the stone. He felt pain in one, knowing that it had broken and that he was now possibly bleeding.

 

Everything went black.

 

(***)

 

 

It was a few days later, they were sitting at the Gryffindor table, eating breakfast. It was taking a while for the school to mend, but the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall were already mended. Next – the moving staircases.

 

“Harry,” Harry shook his head, pushing him out of his daydream and turned to look at Ron who was looking at him worriedly.

 

“Harry, your hand is shaking,” he said, pointedly looking at Harry’s right hand, which was holding his knife and was indeed, shaking.

 

Harry dropped the knife, letting it clatter loudly on the table. Some people nearby stopped talking and looked at him but everyone else continued to eat and chatter away as if nothing had happened. He bit his lip and muttered an apology. He grabbed his bacon and started ripping it into little pieces before chucking it into his mouth.

 

“So...” Hermione looked at the two of them shyly, “I’ve...decided I’m going to come back to Hogwarts and finish my seventh year education,” she said, “I...hope that’s fine with you two?”

 

Ron nodded, Harry was focusing on chewing his bacon and making sure he didn’t choke on the tiny pieces of it.

 

“Yeah – I was thinking of doing the same thing,” Ron said.

 

“I’ll remind you of that when you begin to complain about homework,” Hermione said with a soft, amused smile.

 

There was a small, awkward silence before Hermione cleared her throat.

 

“Harry?”

 

Harry turned to look at Hermione again, realising he’d been chewing on the same small piece of bacon for the last five minutes. It had turned into a dry gross tasting mush. He swallowed it, grimacing slightly. For some reason his throat was sore. He wondered how much screaming and shouting he had done during the battle without even realising it.

 

“Hm?” was all that he came out with, realising how lame that sounded he pushed himself to say more, “yeah?”

 

Hermione gave him a worried look, “what do you think you’re going to do?”

 

Harry looked confused, “about...?”

 

“Are you going to come back to Hogwarts?” Ron asked, starting to sound a little impatient.

 

Harry tried not to get angry – wasn’t his fault he zoned out.

 

“Um...”

 

Harry hadn’t really thought about it. Despite not having completed his final year at Hogwarts, he felt as if he had. He felt as if Hogwarts was no longer the same. Dumbledore was gone, and although after repairs the school looked the same, something in the air just felt...different.

 

It didn’t feel like home anymore.

 

He was confused as to what did. The Dursley’s wasn’t home – and in fact, they were still gone. And he had never liked the house enough that he would move back in there for himself. That house was surrounded with bad memories, even when all the furniture was removed.

 

The Weasley’s? He still had his clashes with Ron at moments, and Ginny was becoming just as overly flirtatious as ever. He felt more like a burden on the family than a family member and if he was family then whatever Ginny was doing was strangely incestuous.

 

Normally a joke like that would have made him laugh but it didn’t that time.

 

He realised, that it seemed like he had no place to call home.

 

Unless...

 

Harry cleared his throat as the realization came to him. Hermione and Ron had obviously fallen into another conversation, because now there was a weird, interrupted air around the three of them. Ron and Hermione looked at him, expecting an answer.

 

“I’m going back to Miami.”


	2. Chapter 2

Reminiscent

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

It was just another hot day in Miami when Debra Morgan knocked on the door of Dexter Morgan’s apartment, looking a little moody and in the need for caffeine. She banged harshly on the door when Dexter didn’t answer it the first time, tapping her foot impatiently on the asphalt. From inside, she could hear footsteps, the sound of a switch being turned on, and finally, she saw the curtains opening as Dexter checked to see who was outside. Debra gave him to finger for extra clarification that it was her.

 

“Charming,” Dexter mumbles tiredly, opening the door to his apartment to let Debra inside. She pushes past, opening the door a little wider while doing so, smirking slightly when out of the corner of her eye she sees Dexter stagger a little bit. She goes towards the coffee pot, a little peeved when the flashing light on the side tells her the coffee isn’t quite ready yet.

 

“Busy night, hey Dex?” Debra asked, peering at him curiously as he closed the door. When he turns around and Debra gets a complete look at him, she can see he looks tired, his hair is a mess. He wears his usual no-shirt-pyjama-pants look. Debra rolls her eyes and wonders how Dexter can feel comfortable just walking around with no shirt on.

 

“Went out with Vince and Angel,” Dexter groaned slightly, heading back to his room. When he came out he was wearing a shirt and had a bottle of water in his head. He drank from it as if he was dying man, “I thought I had learned from the last time – but obviously I hadn’t.”

 

Debra smiled, grabbing herself a mug and pouring herself some coffee, “no shit,” she said, “glad to see you actually kept water at your bedside this time.”

 

Dexter made no comment and headed into the lounge room with his bottle of water and slumped onto the couch.

 

Debra made Dexter a coffee, knowing he would want one, and before making her way into the lounge-room, snuck a peak into Dexter’s room. There was no one else there and surprisingly the bed was already made. Even when hung over, Dexter was a bit of a neat freak.

 

“So, did you get laid?” Debra asked, sitting down next to Dexter and handing him his coffee, watching the steam spiral out of the mug in odd intricate patterns.

 

“Inappropriate brother-sister conversation,” he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee. He jumped slightly at the heat, but he made no other signal or noise indicating he had burned his lip or tongue.

 

“It’s been two years,” Debra said, “not until you’ve gotten laid but at least since Harry left. Don’t tell me you’ve gone celibate for him-.”

 

Dexter groaned, “I’m not celibate – I just have no interest in sex at this very moment,” he said, irritated, “and once again – this is inappropriate conversation for the two of us, so if you could please knock it off-.”

 

“Alright,” Debra said, holding her hands up defensively, “alright – I’m sorry.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Dexter abandoned his coffee and went for a shower, leaving Debra on the couch. She turned on the TV, flicking through the channels, bored, when her phone rang.

 

“Yo, Debra Morgan speaking,” she said, taking a final sip of her coffee and placing an angry mug on the coffee table in front of her, which was once again, grossly pristine. All of Dexter’s files stacked up nice and orderly, the remote now sat on an angle and she wondered if Dexter would get bugged about it. Did Dexter have OCD?

 

“We’ve got a case,” Debra heard threw the speakers, she recognized the sound of Angel’s voice and could hear that he was just as hung over, or even more so, than Dexter.

 

“Where is it at?” Debra asked, grabbing a piece of paper and pen from Dexter’s bookshelf and placing the paper on the coffee table, pen poised above, ready to write the details.

 

“No need to write down the details Deb - outside Miami Metro Homicide.”

 

Debra froze, “what?”

 

“You heard me,” he said, in a tone that suggested he knew Debra was shocked.

 

Debra shook her head slowly, “son of a- you have _got_ to be kidding me.”

 

She heard Angel laugh bitterly through the speaker, “Oh, how I wish I was. There’s press here already and everything – I don’t know who contacted them but Matthews is _pissed_ that his lieutenant isn’t there – so I’d suggest movie your ass now before-.”

 

His voice was cut off and she could hear murmuring. He was talking to someone and covering up the phone microphone, she could tell by how everything sounded muffled to her. Suddenly, the sound came back and instead of Angel’s voice returning; it was Captain Matthews that she heard.

 

“Lieutenant Morgan,” he said, sounding a little too condescending for Debra’s appreciation, “where are you on this fine Miami morning?” he asked, definitely sounding peeved.

 

“Uh...” she felt like a little kid again. There were many times when she was younger, a teenager mostly, when Matthews had used this tone with her – when she’d done something wrong, or was attempting to get her father’s attention and she’d done it the wrong way, and Harry couldn’t cope with her. He would pull her aside and talk to her, like she was a child, like he was speaking now. She shuddered slightly, “I’m waiting for Dexter,” she said, biting on her bottom lip nervously.

 

“You need to be here,” Matthews said, as if Debra _didn’t_ know that, “I need the lieutenant of Miami Metro Homicide to handle the press here – I can’t do it all by myself.”

 

“I-I know,” Debra said, clearing her throat, “I know that – and I’m sorry but-.”

 

“This case has rattled Miami in a way that nothing else has,” Matthews said. There were no longer any background voices, so she could tell that he had walked into the building to speak – away from media attention, “they’re questioning whether we’re really working our hardest to catch the killers that walk our streets. Considering someone has _murdered_ someone right outside of our-.”

 

“Wait, did you say _murdered_ ,” Debra asked, feeling her eyes widen, “I thought the body had simply been _dumped_ , not _murdered_.”

 

“You can talk more about that with Vince Masuoka when you get here,” Matthews said in a clipped tone, “so hurry up and get here – _now_.”

 

Debra was going to reply with yet another submissive answer when she heard the beeping through the speaker – Matthews had hung up on her. She sighed and hung up her end, looking down at her hands, folded in her lap. She remained quiet until she heard footsteps.

 

“Are you ready to go-?” Dexter asked, sounding a little more sober. He stopped and looked at her worriedly, “what’s wrong?” he stood there for a moment, “did I...hurt your _feelings_?” he asked awkwardly.

 

Debra snorted, “Fuck feelings,” she said, “we need to get the fuck out of here – some big shit is happening down at Miami Metro.”

 

Dexter straightened up and looked alert, “like what?”

 

“I’ll explain on the drive there,” Debra said, sitting up and rushing to the kitchen with her mug of coffee, rinsing it quickly in the sink, “grab your shit – let’s go.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Reminiscent

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

 

“You’re certain about this mate?” Ron asked, watching Harry pack his things in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory. They had been sleeping in the seventh year dormitory – surprisingly it was still the same bunch of regulars and Ron and Harry’s beds had been left empty, despite them no longer being at school. Ron’s things sat at the end of his bed, like they had every other year, and there they would stay waiting for the next school year to start.

 

“I’m certain,” Harry said, “I’ve had all night to think about it, and I’m definitely certain about it,” he packed a pile of underwear into his bag, “in fact – the thought should have come to me sooner.”

 

Ron noticed something slip out of Harry’s shirt, a chain with something sharp hanging from it, “what’s that?” he asked, peering at it curiously.

 

It had been two years, and Harry had worn it every day minus when he slept and when he showered and yet Ron had only just noticed. Admittedly, Harry often kept it under his robes. But Harry was surprised by just how well he had unintentionally kept it hidden.

 

“Something Dexter gave me before I left Miami. It’s one of the reasons I want to go back,” Harry said with a small smirk, “rub it in his face that I still wear it.”

 

Ron still sometimes stiffened at the mention of Dexter Morgan, but that was the only negative reaction he allowed himself to show. He was supportive – a lot more supportive than he had originally been. It was enough for Harry, at least, for now.

 

“So, how are you getting there?” Ron asked, “Portkey?”

 

Harry shook his head, and closed the small bag he had picked. Hermione had put the same charm on it she had put on her beaded bag, because Harry felt as if a trunk would look a little weird being dragged behind him – plus it was a tad heavy. He decided just a regular school-like bag was the best option for him to take, “I’m taking a plane,” he said, “the flight will take forever but it’ll give me time to think of what to say.”

 

“What more can you say other than, ‘I’m back?’” Ron asked with a snort.

 

“Hi, I’m back, I’m still grossly in love with you,” Harry said with a small shrug, “I don’t know, I’m still figuring out those details.”

 

He zoned out for a moment, thinking, what exactly would he say? It had been _two_ years, and there had been no contact at all. Harry hadn’t written to Dexter. He couldn’t. Not only would it have been bad for him to send an owl to Dexter – muggles would wonder what the hell was up with that – but it just hurt too much. He didn’t like leaving Dexter, he had wanted to stay, but he had his education and the rest of the wizarding world to think about it. But now that he had done his duty and was ready to go back to the life he had been happy with – would Dexter really take him back?

 

He didn’t want to think about all of the negative things that could happen.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

 

“Well, it’s all set.”

 

Dexter was sitting in his lab, looking at the computer monitor and the results on it when Debra walked into the room unannounced, looking accomplished.

 

“Do I want to know?” Dexter asked, smirking slightly.

 

“Well, you kind of have to,” Debra said with an either bigger smirk, unnerving Dexter, “I set you up on a date, loser.”

 

Dexter froze, his finger raised above the left click button on the mouse, in shock, “...you...you set me up on a date?” he asked, looking back up at Debra slowly. He didn’t know what expression showed on his face and whether Debra could see what it meant – but he knew for a fact that he felt nothing short of horror and slight betrayal.

 

“Dexter, you need to get out,” Debra said, “and that doesn’t mean drunken late nights with Masuoka and Angel. You need to...I don’t know,” she shrugged, “have fun, get laid,” she smiled, “it helps relax the body and you’re always so goddamn tense.”

 

Dexter shook his head, “I told you why I couldn’t date or see anyone. Not like that.”

 

“I know,” Debra said, “but...” she sighed, “Dexter – what if he doesn’t come back?”

 

“Don’t-.”

 

“You gotta understand Dex,” Debra said, leaning against the door frame now and looking at Dexter sympathetically, “sometimes...I don’t know...shit doesn’t work out,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “you gotta...move on and all that inspirational bullshit. If you don’t like her, then, you don’t like her,” she said, “but at least give her a fucking chance Dexter,” she paused, “I hope you don’t mind me hooking you up with a woman by the way – I don’t know any gay guys to be honest.”

 

Dexter sighed, wishing that Debra would understand. But, he didn’t necessarily have to try on this date. He’d just take the girl out, act maybe a little too disinterested, and head back home. Maybe watch TV, go through the files on the case, and go to bed. Night finished - completed. Level up.

 

“Fine,” Dexter muttered, looking back at the screen, “now because I know what you’re like – what have you set up for us?”

 

Debra smiled excitedly, “well, there’s this restaurant that I thought you guys should go to. They serve like...coffee margaritas,” Debra shrugged.

 

“Am I going to be able to _afford_ this place Debra?” Dexter asked.

 

“I hope,” Debra said before leaving the room, before Dexter could say or ask anything more.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

The restaurant was a little more than what Dexter wanted. The place typically screamed romance. He had hoped that Debra may have picked a restaurant that you might bring family to – so if he wanted he could tone down the intent on the date. But unfortunately, Debs was two steps ahead and picked one of the most grossly romantic restaurants in Miami. The only thing that could have made it more obvious was if there were scattered hearts and maybe a Cupid statue.

 

The coffee margaritas Debra had spoken so fondly of were strong enough to knock out your date without the need for the date rape drug. Taking one sip of the drink had almost made Dexter projectile it onto his date – and while he was sure that would have turned his date off of him completely, it wasn’t his intention to be quite _that_ cruel.

 

Dexter couldn’t think of questions to ask the woman. He wanted the date to fail, but he didn’t want to leave the woman with the impression he wasn’t at all interested and that his sister had just randomly set up the date so he could get laid and attempt to get over a boy he had dated, hadn’t seen for two years, who was not to mention underage and a mother fucking wizard.

 

“Look,” the woman said suddenly. Dexter didn’t even know her name, “I’m not really here for the ‘romance’ of the date,” she said, shrugging, “so do not even try to pull a muscle trying to sway me off of my feet – I just want sex.”

 

Dexter felt his eyes widen, well, that was certainly a turn of events.

 

“As long as you don’t have anyone to go home to,” she said, “I’m willing to leave this corny restaurant now.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Dexter and the woman without a known name ended up driving back to Dexter’s place – the whole time said woman rubbing her hand up and down Dexter’s thigh, attempting to tease him. Dexter wished he had just said no. But he didn’t particularly feel like explaining to Debra that he had rejected his date entirely. He didn’t know how he would explain this to her, but, he would – somehow.

 

When they got there Dexter lead the woman, who briefly mentioned back in the car that her name was Valerie, to the front door of his apartment, “bachelor pad?” she asked with a small giggle. Dexter chose to ignore the joke and opened the door.

 

The first thing that caught his attention was that he didn’t feel alone in the apartment and it had nothing to do with Valerie standing beside him. The second was him being pushed against the wall and kissed hungrily. Valerie’s breath reeked of cigarettes and mint gum in a poor attempt to disguise it.

 

He faintly heard the shuffling of feet and then, he heard his name.

 

He shoved Valerie off of him and peered into the lounge room. Behind the bookshelf peered Harry, looking confused and as if it was too late.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a terrible human being who hasn't written something in forever, but I promise, your Hexter fixes will be delivered more often. I've been trying to read more and I'm back to attending school and soon I might be doing a business course. We'll see how that goes.
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter is so short, the next one should hopefully be longer and a little more interesting.

Reminiscent

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

They were sitting in the lounge room, a mug of steaming hot coffee in Harry’s hands – Dexter had had quite enough of coffee and decided on a refreshing glass of water which he drank at least half of before sitting down.

 

Dexter took in Harry’s appearance and decided that the boy, now man, had changed. The facial hair was a nice look on him, but he looked a little pale – shocked pale, and he wished that would disappear sooner rather than later. He was taller, a little more solid looking. He looked even more haunted than he had last time. He didn’t know whether Harry had changed for the better or the worse.

 

“So...uh...” Harry said - his voice a little choked. He cleared his throat, talking normally again. Dexter noticed that Harry’s voice had deepened even more, “who was...uh...who was that?” he asked, sounding a little nervous.

 

“Just...” Dexter sighed, “Would you believe me if I said it isn’t what you think it is?”

 

“Then what is it?” he sounded insecure and it hurt Dexter to think that he had been the cause of this insecurity – but he was glad Harry had been here. He would have felt worse if it had gone further.

 

“Deb thought I was lonely,” Dexter said, “it’s been two years and I haven’t seen anyone; so, she tried to get me out...” Dexter trailed off, wondering what he next had to say was a bad idea or not.

 

“She thought I wasn’t coming back,” Harry said, in a matter of fact tone. Dexter nodded slowly, rubbing his sweaty palms along his pants – he hadn’t realised how nervous he was. But, he felt guiltier than anything.

 

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to come back,” Harry said, putting down his mug of coffee on the coffee table, “so much stuff has happened within the past two years – if I could have come back, I promise I would have.”

 

“I know,” Dexter smiled, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.”

 

 

(***)

 

 

It took hours to explain everything that had happened to him in the last two years, and by the time Harry had felt like he’d done enough explaining for the night, it was five in the morning. But neither of them felt tired. Both their minds were crammed full of information. They couldn’t possibly sleep now.

 

“So, he’s most definitely dead?” Dexter asked, “No weird wizard way of coming back?”

 

Harry shook his head, “none, he’s gone for good – and I honestly don’t think anybody wants him back anyway, not even the few of his followers that lived.”

 

Dexter nodded and couldn’t help the relief that flooded through him. He knew it was selfish, but he wasn’t Harry to stay. He’d only just gotten him back, and he’d sat up until five in the morning just speaking to him, and he hadn’t felt so calm in such a long time. Two years to be exact.

 

“I can’t believe it’s five in the morning,” Harry croaked out. Dexter looked up, and noticed that Harry did look tired. The conversational train had stopped and now the earliness of the morning and the fatigue he felt were beginning to crush him.

 

He stood up from his spot on the couch and turned to Harry, holding out his hand, “come to bed with me?” he asked, somewhat sheepishly. Harry looked at him for a moment, and he cleared his throat, “just like old times?”

 

Harry beamed, took Dexter’s hand in his own, and let Dexter pull him up, “just like old times.”

 

 

  
(***)

 

 

The alarm went off at seven thirty and both men in the bed groaned. Harry reached over Dexter’s body, curled up against the loud noise and slammed his hand down on the snooze button.

 

“You couldn’t turn off the alarm for one morning?” Harry complained, burying himself in the sheets and dragging his body closer to Dexter’s, “for fucks sake Dex.”

 

Dexter had already fallen back asleep, his light snores travelling over to Harry who rolled his eyes and attempted to get back to sleep.

 

When Harry was finally successful in doing so, Dexter’s phone began to ring.

 

“I swear to fucking Merlin,” Harry groaned as Dexter sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He answered the phone mid yawn, “morning Deb,” he muttered, getting out of bed and stretching before starting to get ready for what Harry could only assume was work. He sat back and watched – at least there was something to enjoy at this time in the morning.

 

“ _There’s been a murder, somewhere near some art museum_ ,” Harry could hear Debra say from the speaker on Dexter’s phone. Dexter had put the phone on loud speaker as he got changed.

 

“Oh?” Dexter asked, “Did someone murder a guard while trying to find the Da Vinci code?”

 

“ _That’s not funny_ ,” Debra said, “ _even worse that I actually understand that reference_...”

 

Debra paused for a moment, “ _you sound tired...I didn’t realize she was so wild_.”

 

Dexter frowned, looking at the phone for a moment as if it were Deb, giving it a question look, “who?” he asked, buttoning up his shirt and grabbing his shoes.

 

“ _Wow Dex, I thought you were better than that. I thought you would at least remember her name_ -.”

 

“I didn’t get laid last night Debs.”

 

There was another pause. Harry sat there, trying to keep the smirk off of his face, but he couldn’t quite help it. Dexter spotted him and rolled his eyes at him.

 

“ _Then why so tired_?” Debra asked, sounding confused.

 

“You’ll see,” was all Dexter said before hanging up the phone. He turned to Harry, giving him an amused look, “so, you getting dressed or what?”

 

Harry sighed, “ugh, what for?” he asked, looking confused.

 

“We’re going to a crime scene,” Dexter said, passing Harry over his shirt, “you best get changed. I don’t think they like it when people in their underwear rock up at art museums.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I'm a nice human again! I decided to write another chapter to make up for how long it's been since I've updated, and hopefully this chapter will be a little more interesting - it is definitely longer. Enjoy! Please, review or something. I would like to know your thoughts and so forth.

Reminiscent

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

 

When Dexter turned up at the art museum and was directed towards where the scene was. Dexter and Harry made their way towards a group of detectives. Debra was standing there, asking a guard questions. She peered towards Dexter and gave him a small nod of appreciation for turning up and began talking to the guard again. Dexter noticed her pause and then slowly turn back to look at Dexter - except; not at Dexter – at Harry.

 

Dexter saw Debra hurriedly say some excuse, and that she would be right back, before she began rushing towards the two of them. Dexter heard a small warm chuckle behind him and couldn’t help but smile as Debra got closer to them.

 

“What the _fuck_?” Debra asked, looking at the two of them in astonishment - mostly Harry in this case, “it’s been two years and you just rock up _now_?”

 

“Sorry about that,” Harry muttered, looking down at the shiny tiled floor of the museum. It was shiny enough that you could shave in it.

 

There was a small silence. Harry refused to look up, but he was sure there was some small conversation going on between Debra and Dexter in front of him – he didn’t particularly feel like interrupting the two of them. Suddenly, “so, two years and you’ve been taking steroids?” Debra asked, with a small hint of amusement in her voice, “You have grown a _shitload_ ,” she added, just in case Harry didn’t get the joke.

 

“People have a tendency to do that,” Harry said with a small smile.

 

“Don’t be a smart ass,” she said, only half serious, “now,” she turned back towards the yellow crime scene tape and the confused looking guard, “I’ve got to go back,” she said, “no time for family reunions or whatever,” she shuffled awkwardly, “Dex, Masuoka needs you; now.”

 

She turned back towards the guard without batting an eyelid, going back to looking professional rather than shocked.

 

“Charming as usual,” Harry muttered, “though, she cursed a lot less than I thought she would.”

 

Dexter rolled his eyes before making his way over to the yellow crime scene tape. He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder, “are you coming, or not?” he asked, sounding a little irritable.

 

“I can’t,” Harry said, as if it were obvious, “I’m just a curious civilian come to watch the detectives go through havoc.”

 

Dexter frowned, he’d momentarily forgotten that on that one situation, Harry hadn’t been a work friend or a witness to help peg a criminal down. He’d been the victim of sexual assault.

 

Harry smiled at him softly, “I’ll still be here when you’re finished,” he said, “I’m not leaving any time soon.”

 

Dexter smiled back, and began walking. That was all the incentive he needed to make his way over to the yellow tape and slip under it.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

It was gory. The body was fine, just a couple of stab wounds and nothing more. The head however- that was the gruesome part. The head sat over some foreign statue that Dexter had never really taken any interest of. The bone of the person’s skull had been completely removed; all that was left was the outer skin. It sat on the statues head and face like a poorly made Halloween mask.

 

“You’d think they would have security cameras set up twenty four seven,” Vince Masuoka said, standing behind Dexter and looking at the face that had one belonged to a Caucasian man in is forties.

 

“Did Debra ask the guard about the cameras?” he asked Masuoka. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it. Blood dripped from the faces empty eye sockets cheesily.

 

“They said two days ago they all seemed to break,” Masuoka said with a shrug, “conveniently all at the same time. They went to get them repaired – you would think being an art museum of all things they would have a backup system.”

 

“You would,” Dexter said with a small nod of agreement.

 

“I’m starting to think it was an inside job,” a voice said from behind the two of them. Both ripped their gaze away from the statue and its new face to see Debra standing there with her arms crossed over her chest.

 

“Oh; really?” Dexter asked, “May I ask – what was your first clue?”

 

Debra glared at him, “just because you’re not a depressed dipshit today doesn’t mean you get to be a smart ass,” she snapped. She looked past them at the statue, “ugh, that’s fucking disgusting.”

 

“Yeah,” Masuoka said, “so – who is going to scrape the priceless artefact to get the evidence off?” he asked, “I’ll pay whoever does it ten bucks if they can keep the face in one piece.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

When Dexter was finally finished getting the flimsy piece of flesh off of the statues head, he put it in a bag and headed back towards the outside of the museum, planning on going back to the lab at work. He was happy to see, at the entrance of the room; Harry was leaning back against the wall.

 

“That was quick,” Harry said, eyeing Dexter warily, “how gruesome?”

 

“How much gore can you handle?” Dexter asked.

 

“I lead a war,” Harry shrugged, “plenty.”

 

Dexter held up the bag containing the face, Harry looked at it, intrigued, “do I want to know how?”

 

“Yes,” Dexter said, “I would at least like to know anyway.”

 

Dexter lead the way back to his car, both getting in, Dexter pulled out of the car park just as a news team pulled in.

 

“Call Deb,” Dexter said. Harry automatically got Dexter’s phone out of the man’s pocket and dialled Deb’s phone.

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“Friendly,” Harry muttered, “you’re about to have some company.”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” she hung up and Harry stared at the phone for a couple of minutes before locking the screen.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

It took a while to get back to Miami Metro and the long drive was silent. Dexter wondered whether Harry had fallen asleep. During a red light he turned to see the dark haired man was perfectly wide awake and was playing with something on his phone.

 

“What are you doing?” Dexter asked, looking bemused.

 

“Playing some game,” Harry said casually, “I’m seriously hoping this game is for Harrison – or have you gone soft on me Dexter Morgan?”

 

Dexter rolled his eyes and looked back at the lights – they were still red.

 

“By the way, where is Harrison?” Harry asked, “I didn’t see him last night, or this morning.”

 

“He stayed over at Jamie’s place for the night,” Dexter said, “considering...I was supposed to be on a date.”

 

“And getting laid,” Harry said with an amused expression. It seemed Harry didn’t hold any bitter resentment toward what he had intruded on, “sorry that we didn’t fuck last night. Then you could have said you did get laid.”

 

If Dexter had been eating or drinking, he surely would have choked.

 

Harry chuckled in the seat beside him but said nothing more until they were standing out the front of the Miami Metro building, making their way to the elevator.

 

“Are people going to remember me?” Harry asked, “because of the whole Stephen Cooper-Henries thing?”

 

Dexter hadn’t wanted to be the one to bring it up and he didn’t know whether he wanted to talk about it even now that Harry had been the one to bring it up. The elevator dinged and the doors opened – Dexter and Harry both walked inside. There was no one else in the elevator. Harry waited patiently for Dexter to answer his question.

 

“They will remember you,” Dexter said slowly, “even with the facial hair.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “its stubble, it’s not like I’ve grown a beard and it’s trailing across the ground.”

 

The mental image made Harry shudder.

 

“People are going to remember you,” Dexter said, “your case...it stood out a lot for many people.”

 

“Why?” Harry asked, sounding genuinely curious, maybe even a little annoyed, “I’m not the only one that’s been raped by a school teacher – surely.”

 

The words and the careless way they were thrown about made Dexter flinch slightly, “no, you’re not the only one,” Dexter said slowly, “but...a lot of the detectives on and surrounding the case...they grew a little fond of you.”

 

Harry didn’t say a word. The elevator dinged again the doors opened to Dexter’s floor.

 

Dexter sighed, “welcome back to Miami Metro: Homicide.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it's been so long since an update. My life has been going to shit, but I promise, I will finish this. I will not let this fanfiction die without some form of ending. Even if it takes a decade. I'm really, so so sorry. But, school holidays have just come up and I am sure I will be doing a lot of writing, in between reading a bunch of books and admining Facebook pages and trying to get my BookTube channel up and running xD
> 
> I hope you enjoy this short chapter. I promise there will be more coming soon. 
> 
> I love you all!

Reminiscent

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

 

They were both sitting in Dexter’s lab. Harry was sitting on the floor, against one of the doors; Dexter was sitting at the computer, staring at the screen, looking almost bored.

 

“What did you mean that the detectives were fond of me?” Harry asked, sounding contemplative, “I definitely didn’t pick that up when they were talking to me.”

 

Dexter sighed, turning away from the screen which was currently running through finger prints. Masuoka had coming running in earlier claiming that they had found a fingerprint at the bottom of the statue.

 

“They used to talk about you a lot,” Dexter said, “obviously, you weren’t there.”

 

“Charming,” Harry said, “I love knowing that they were talking about me behind my back.”

 

Dexter snorted, “Well, you were the victim of a pretty long-going case.”

 

Harry shrugged, “I know, I was kidding,” he paused, “what did they used to say?”

 

“Masuoka always just said ‘poor kid,’” Dexter pressed something on the computer and images started flicking past on the screen again, “not in a condescending way.”

 

Harry nodded slowly.

 

“Angel used to think there was something about you that screamed that this wasn’t the first bad thing that had happened to you and you were beginning to break,” Dexter said honestly, “I’m happy to see that wasn’t the case.”

 

Harry smiled slightly, “yeah.”

 

“As for Deb,” Dexter sighed, “after she found out about _us_ she mainly used to say ‘don’t fuck the kid over, and don’t _fuck_ him either’.”

 

Harry burst into laughter; it was the best sound Dexter had heard in a long time. It was warm and unburdened, and he had always wondered whether he would hear that sound again. Warmth flooded through him as Harry curled up back towards the door, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes on the back of his hand. He gave a small shuddery breath before turning back to look at Dexter with a small smile.

 

“I kind of wish they had shown that side to them,” he said, “then maybe I wouldn’t have been so intimidated by them all the time when they were asking questions.”

 

“I know,” Dexter said, turning back to the screen, “but it’s all a part of the job,” he turned back to look at the screen, there was no new information. Dexter sighed in frustration and turned back to Harry.

 

“We should get something to eat,” he muttered, “I’m starving.”

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

It was five pm and Harry was lying down on the couch. He was mentally exhausted, and the reality was he hadn’t done much thinking. Dexter, at lunch, had spent the whole time trying to bounce ideas off of him about his current case. Harry had sat there, nodding every so often to show that he was listening, which he had genuinely been – but hearing him talk about it had been mentally exhausting. There were so many things to consider. He didn’t know how Dexter did it.

 

“Are you alright?” Dexter asked from the kitchen, “Do you want anything?”

 

Harry shook his head, his eyes still closed, his arm slumped slightly over his forehead, he sighed “I’m good.”

 

Harry didn’t hear a reply, but he was certain by the smell that Dexter was making himself a coffee. Shortly after he could hear the sound of typing again – Dexter had gone back to his laptop and was pulling up files, he was sure.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry woke up slowly, after feeling someone shake him and hearing the gentle soothing tone of someone softly saying his name. His eyelids fluttered slightly before his eyes were all the way open, the first thing he saw upon opening them was Dexter’s face and a small square of the white ceiling.

 

“Hey,” Harry said softly, “did I fall asleep?”

 

Dexter smiled down at him, “yes, you did. I’ve let you sleep for four hours.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened and he sat up slowly, “seriously?” he asked, “you shouldn’t have let me go to sleep.”

 

“You were exhausted,” Dexter said, “I would have made you go to bed, but you already asleep by the time I went to tell you.”

 

Harry smiled at the words ‘go to bed’ it was so nice to hear them. How easy that had slipped into something so domestic - like it hadn’t been years since they’d last seen one another. He liked the fact that any sort of awkwardness was gone between them and everything was okay again. The gap never happened. As far as they were concerned, the whole time they’d been living together. That’s how it felt. Nothing had changed.

 

He got up slowly, ignoring Dexter’s hand until he grabbed it and dragged the older man into the room.

 

Dexter chuckled, “what are you doing?” he asked, sounding amused.

 

“We’re going to bed,” Harry said, “if I’m going to sleep now, you’re sleeping with me.”

 

“I have work to do-.”

 

He was cut off by Harry turning around and softly kissing him. Harry shook his head.

 

“No, you have sleeping to do,” he muttered, “Now, come on,” he said, his tone taking a demanding turn, “bed.”

 

And that is how Dexter found himself in bed, not even remotely tired, Harry curled up tightly against him, already asleep – but Dexter didn’t have the heart to leave.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry woke up the next morning, and the first thing he felt was his limbs tangled with another’s. Harry smiled; it was the best way to wake up in the morning, and especially knowing the other limbs belonged to Dexter. He sighed and opened his eyes. The man next to him was still asleep, snoring softly. When he looked down he noticed that the sheets had been kicked down slightly, so Harry had a clear view of their legs tangled together – seeing it, for some reason, made it more real and more meaningful than just feeling it underneath the sheets. It made Harry smile.

 

He continued to look at Dexter’s face. He looked so calm in his sleep; innocent and younger. If Dexter woke up and told him now that he was a serial killer, there was no way he could have believed him. This man, this sleeping angel was surely capable of no such thing.

 

Just when Harry was contemplating trying to force himself into more sleep so he could enjoy the feeling of being entwined with Dexter in _their_ bed, Dexter’s phone rang, ringing noisily on the bedside table. Harry glared at it, wondering if he glared hard enough it would break or malfunction in some way. But too late, Dexter was already awake. He sat up and quickly grabbed the phone; answering it and sounding as if he’d been awake and already had two cups of coffee.

 

“Dexter speaking,” he said. Harry could hear talking on the other end of the phone through the speaker. It sounded clipped and urgent. Harry felt his face grow into a worried frown.

 

“On my way,” Dexter said before hanging up. He turned to Harry with a grim look.

 

“I hope that didn’t wake you up,” he said softly, “I should have put it on vibrate at least.”

 

Harry shook his head, “I was already awake,” he said, giving Dexter small smile. Dexter nodded and started getting out of bed, tugging whatever clothing that he’d left at the end of the bed on, “what’s wrong?” Harry asked.

 

“Crime scene,” Dexter said, “I would bring you along, but I didn’t ask permission,” he said, “besides, it’s not healthy for you to be around them so much.”

 

“But I’m fine with it,” Harry argued, “I actually find it intriguing. Getting to see what you do every day.”

 

Dexter gave him a bemused look before tugging on a white shirt, “well, that’s not happening today,” he said, “I’m sure I can trust you to behave,” he muttered, buttoning up his other shirt.

 

Harry shrugged, “can’t be too difficult, can it?”

 

“It’s been known to be difficult for you,” Dexter smirked, narrowly avoiding a pillow as it flew past his head.

 

Dexter walked out of the room, getting out his portable coffee mug and making coffee and getting ready for work. Harry continued to stay in bed and stared at the ceiling, almost accusingly – like it was the blame for him not being able to go to work with Dexter for the day.

 

Dexter came back in shortly to say goodbye, giving Harry a kiss on the forehead and once again telling him to behave before leaving the apartment entirely.

 

But Harry, of course, had other plans.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but hey! At least it's an update - right?

Reminiscent

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

Harry was relieved that he had taken his invisibility cloak with him to Miami now. He was originally going to part ways with it; leave everything magical, minus his wand, with his friends. But, at the last minute, he had decided to take it with him – and now he was glad he had. He could have easily casted a Disillusionment charm, but the cloak felt better and he felt more assured that he was completely covered as he made his way over to the crime scene. It hadn’t been easy getting there. First, he had had to apparate to Miami Metro and wait for the last of the detectives and forensic crew to make their way to their cars – he was happy to see that Dexter and Deb had been one of those people. Luckily, half way over to her car, already unlocked, she had remembered something she’d left in her office, causing her to turn and run back into Miami Metro – Dexter watching her as she ran, allowing Harry the time to get into the back of the car without detection.

 

It was hard to keep quiet in the backseat of the car once they got moving. Deb sped around the streets of Miami while Dexter tried to hold up some form of casual conversation with Deb.

 

“How’s Harry?” she asked suddenly, making a sharp right turn, making a man honk his horn and give her the finger. She didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Fine,” Dexter answered, sounding suspicious.

 

“Have you banged yet?”

 

Dexter gave her a wide eyed look, “Deb!”

 

She shrugged, turning another corner, narrowly avoiding the pavement, “I’m just curious,” she said, “you brought him to work yesterday and I know he’s been staying with you – hell, I’m surprised you didn’t bring him to work today.”

 

Harry smirked at that, he was tempted to make some sarcastic comment but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know how much exactly Deb knew about him. Had Dexter said anything about the whole wizard thing to Deb in the last two years? Or would he have kept quiet for fear of sounding insane? With Harry not being there to prove that Dexter was telling the truth, it would have been difficult to convince her of it if he had said anything.

 

“I didn’t think the crime scene would be healthy for him,” Dexter said, shrugging, “he’s been through a lot. He needs a break – that’s why he came back to Miami.”

 

Harry frowned, that wasn’t the reason at all.

 

“I guess,” Deb said, “wait, did they say turn left or-?”

 

Obviously, the conversation was over.

 

“Turn left.”

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry stood in the middle of a church now, there was a body hanging limply from the ceiling, his skin on his back pulled away, as if to form the illusion of angel wings. It was grotesque in the light of the church, the colours from the stain glass windows forming weird colourful patterns on the man’s skin. Harry didn’t want to look at it but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to move away.

 

Suddenly, Dexter was standing beside him, camera in hand – and the next moment Dexter bumped into him.

 

Dexter paused, looking right through Harry and frowning when he noticed there was physically nothing visible to bump into or trip over. His frown deepened, “Harry,” he murmured so nobody else could hear him, “I swear to God if you’re here right now-.”

 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Harry whispered, looking around. Everyone was standing back and talking to some of the people in the church – the people who had walked in this morning, hoping to say a few prayers, listen to a sermon or two, only to find a body suspended in the air with fleshy wings, “it was like I was drawn here.”

 

Dexter shook his head. Anyone watching would have simply assumed that he disapproved of the crime scene in front of him, “I told you to stay home,” he said, “I can’t have you out here all the time.”

 

“Nobody knows I’m out here,” Harry whispered back, “so it’s not like you’re going to get into trouble.”

 

Harry knew he’d gotten Dexter there when Dexter didn’t reply but simply continued to take photos of the scene above him. Harry began walking around, looking for anything that could help. He decided that he wanted to help Dexter. Besides, crime work was interesting.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“I still can’t believe you were there,” Dexter muttered tiredly as they got back into Dexter’s apartment.

 

“I needed to know what was going on,” Harry said, “I can handle it. You can’t just leave me in the dark like that when you know for a fact that I can handle it.”

 

Dexter turned around and gave him a look. It was filled mostly with worry, and something else that Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on.

 

“I just...” Dexter sighed, “Sometimes, when I see you, I see that boy from two years ago. Broken,” he said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing out two coffee mugs, “broken because of Stephen Cooper-Henries. You crying and the nightmares you used to have. Sometimes, all I see is that,” he looked back at Harry, “I don’t really know war hero Harry. I only know the you from two years ago and you were damaged. There was no way back then that you would have been able to handle a crime scene like that.”

 

Harry knew that Dexter had a point.

 

He bit his lip before sighing, “I’m sorry...alright?” he muttered.

 

Dexter nodded, “alright...”

 

There was an awkward pause and Harry made his way into the lounge room. Dexter came over a few minutes later and handed him a mug of coffee, “Harrison will be home today,” he said, “do you think you’ll be able to babysit for a few hours?” he asked.

 

Harry smirked, “why?” he asked, “did Deb set you up on another date?”

 

Dexter rolled his eyes, “funny,” he said, sitting down beside Harry, “no, I have something to do tonight.”

 

Harry thought for a moment and then it clicked, “you’re still killing people?” he asked, sounding a little amused.

 

Dexter shrugged, “not much else to do when you’re not around.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying hard to write but sometimes writers block just randomly visits me. But I promise, this fanfiction will get finished. I refuse to let it die. 
> 
> Also, I finished reading The Vampire Academy series last night...wow. Just. Wow. It was my goal this year to finish the series and I'm so proud of myself because I did :D 
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter. Also. QUESTION; how detailed do you guys want possible sex scenes to be?

Reminiscent

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

Harry was sitting on the couch watching over Harrison as he played with a remote control car which apparently, Dexter had bought him for Christmas last year. Harrison continued to ram it into Harry’s foot, trying to get his attention.

 

“What’s wrong Harrison?” Harry asked, sounding amused.

 

“When’s my dad coming back?” he asked, seeming a little peeved. Harry sighed, this was the fifth time Harrison had asked some variation of that question, and each time Harry had no new idea on how to answer it. Where was Dexter and when was he coming back? He didn’t know. Though, Harrison had asked what Dexter was doing and that had been the hardest question to answer. He couldn’t say that Dexter was at work – Harrison knew Dexter’s number and would call him instantly and talk his ear off. But, no other answer was suitable. You couldn’t say ‘getting laid’ or ‘killing some prick that deserves it.’

 

“I have no idea,” Harry finally answered, “but I’m sure it’ll be soon.”

 

Harrison gave him that small frown again. If he kept it up he’d have wrinkles by the time he was twelve. But he said no more and went back to his remote control car, and instead of ramming it into Harry’s foot, he drove it off towards the kitchen. Harry heard his bang against the cupboards and sighed.

 

 _Hurry up and get back home Dex,_ Harry thought to himself quietly, _or I swear to Merlin, I’ll kill you_.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

It had taken a bit of convincing but Harrison had finally decided to go to bed, as soon as Harry promised that he would wake Harrison up once his father got home. The boy had been asleep for roughly two hours when Dexter finally got home, dragging a satisfied air around with him.

 

“How’d it go?” Harry asked, looking up from where he sat on the couch.

 

“Good,” Dexter answered, heading straight to his room. Harry knew he was putting his tools away.

 

Harry didn’t know what to do. Majority of the time, back two years ago, when Dexter came back from a kill Harry had been asleep. But now he was awake – he didn’t know what to do. Did he make him coffee or maybe some food? Not ask anything more about and just let him enjoy the afterglow of another successful night of murder?

 

Harry was about to get up and maybe make some coffee when Dexter basically gave him the answer. He was grabbing two mugs when he felt two arms slip around his waist and he was pulled against Dexter’s firm body.

 

“You okay?” Harry asked with a small frown. Dexter had never really been like this after a kill, that was for sure.

 

He felt more than saw Dexter nod, “I’m fine,” he muttered, kissing Harry’s neck softly. Harry closed his eyes at the feeling of Dexter’s lip against his neck, slowly moving down to his shoulder as Dexter revealed the skin there. He sucked in a deep breath before asking, “But...you just killed someone...”

 

Dexter chuckled, “I killed someone an hour and a half ago – I’ve cooled off now...and I’ve missed you; a lot.”

 

Harry didn’t say nothing but let himself enjoy the feeling of Dexter’s hands against his skin, teeth nibbling the flesh of his neck slightly; he wanted to stay like that forever.

 

“What about Harrison?” Harry asked, breathing in harshly as Dexter bit the skin of his flesh a little harder than usual – though Harry could admit that he enjoyed it.

 

“He’ll stay asleep,” Dexter said. He grabbed Harry’s hand and began dragging Harry to his room, “once he’s asleep he won’t wake up.”

 

Harry allowed himself to be dragged into Dexter’s room and closed the door behind him, not long after that Dexter’s hand began tugging on his clothes in an attempt to get them off and Harry hurriedly tried to do the same. After a bit of difficulty and a bit of laughter on both their parts, they stood naked in front of each other.

 

Dexter moved forwards and kissed him softly. Harry found his hands in Dexter’s hair and his legs wrapped around Dexter’s waist as Dexter picked him up and brought him over to the bed. It was driving Harry insane, all this foreplay – he was enjoying it but at the same time he wanted to get to the good bit. Dexter seemed to read his mind because his hand blindly searched for the draw in his bedside table and started searching for lube.

 

It wasn’t long before Dexter was inside of him and they were meeting each other, thrust for gentle thrust. Harry’s legs still wrapped around Dexter’s waist as he hit Harry’s prostate over and over – Harry’s head was pushed back into the pillows, his mouth open, moaning quietly, a look of pure ecstasy written all over Harry’s face.

 

They came together, both coming undone at the seams and falling apart into a million pieces.

 

Dexter rolled over and landed on the other side of the bed, looking satisfied once more, but in a much different way. Harry happily turned onto his side and gazed at Dexter with a small smile on his face, “we need to do that more often,” Harry said, “that was amazing.”

 

Dexter smiled before kissing Harry softly once more. Harry could already feel him hardening once more, ready for another round.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry didn’t know where he was, the picture was still forming around him, but as it slowly made its way to completion, things began to click. He was in the art museum. Everything looked like how he had seen it the day of the crime scene. He looked around in the far corner he could see himself talking to Dexter – Dexter holding up the face of the man that had been found on the statue. Harry shook his head, feeling a little funny at seeing himself in what appeared to be a dream. He turned around and saw people working furiously over the area the statue was in, hoping to find more evidence but Harry knew they would find none. He looked over to wear Deb was talking to one of the guards on duty; he seemed clueless as to how this could have happened.

 

Harry frowned, why was he dreaming about this? Because he hadn’t seen Deb talking to the guard and he hadn’t really noticed much else after Dexter had shown him the statues temporary face. He turned around and realised with a start that the other version of himself and Dexter had left. But Harry was still here.

 

He frowned and continued to look around and noticed, lurking in the shadows, another guard. The guard was smirking slightly, looking amused at the crime scene in front of him and-

 

Harry woke up.

 

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

“Hey, you okay?”

 

Dexter was looking down at him, his eyes filled with concern. Harry blinked a few times before nodding slowly, “yeah,” he mumbled, sitting up slowly, allowing Dexter to move back and avoid getting knocked out, “I’m fine.”

 

Despite claiming that, Dexter still didn’t look so sure and offered to get up and get Harry a glass of water or something, commenting that Harry looked a little pale and he was sweating a lot.

 

“I promise, I’m fine,” Harry said firmly, “just...I don’t know a weird dream.”

 

Dexter frowned, “do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

 

“Not really.”

 

Dexter looked uncomfortable.

 

“Look, if it gets worse,” Harry said, starting to get annoyed, “I’ll tell you, but for now, I’m going back to sleep. I promise – I’m fine.”

 

It was either Harry had convinced him or Dexter didn’t find much use arguing, because he wrapped an arm around Harry again and before long was back to sleep. Harry stared at the opposite wall for a while, contemplating what he had seen. It was driving him crazy not knowing what it had meant.

 

He shook his head.

 

Nothing – it meant absolutely nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

Reminiscent

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

Harry didn’t have another nightmare that night and he was glad. He knew Dexter was worried about him and he was sure having another nightmare definitely would have been, in Dexter’s eyes, a cause for concern.

 

He got out of bed, stretching and looking around the bedroom. He could say it over and over, but his feelings about it never changed – it was good to be back in Miami, in this apartment, with Dexter; and sometimes it even felt like nothing had happened. That Harry hadn’t left for two years - that there had been no gap in their relationship with each other. It felt amazing.

 

Harry felt...comfortable.

 

He looked down at Dexter, still asleep. He smiled softly at the sleeping man and then looked down at his own naked body – remembering their love making from last night. Three rounds...Harry rolled his eyes; he didn’t know who was more insatiable.

 

Harry got dressed and went into the kitchen, making mugs of coffee for Dexter and himself. Harrison came out of his room, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

 

“How did you sleep?” Harry asked kindly, giving the small boy a smile.

 

Harrison simply shrugged and curled up on the lounge room couch, “where’s dad?” he asked, looking a little irritated.

 

“He’s still asleep,” Harry said, biting his lip, “I’m sure he’ll be awake soon.”

 

“I am awake.”

 

Harry turned around, a little startled to see Dexter standing in the door way, dressed and very much awake. Dexter grabbed his mug from the breakfast bench and gave Harry a small smile before taking a sip, “you need to get ready for Jamie, Harrison, she’ll be here to pick you up at eight thirty.”

 

Harrison sighed, before yawning. Obviously the child hadn’t had that good of a sleep. He slowly made his way back to his room, Harry assumed, to get ready.

 

“You don’t think he actually heard us last night, do you?” Harry asked, feeling a blush creep up onto his cheeks, “it doesn’t seem like he had a very good sleep.”

 

Dexter shook his head, “I’m certain he didn’t hear us – he’s always like this.”

 

Harry took Dexter’s word for it and decided not to stress about it. He didn’t know what he was going to do with himself today, with Dexter at work and Jamie babysitting Harrison, he would be alone in the apartment with nothing to do other than, what, eat and watch TV? He didn’t even have Dexter’s laptop to keep him occupied.

 

He was tempted to go out and buy his own laptop – hell, he did have the money for it. He’d changed half of his witches into Muggle money for the time being. He did leave himself with some wizard money, but it was purely for wizard emergencies and nothing else. He was quite content with his US Muggle money and living with Dexter.

 

He got up and decided that he might actually just go shopping. He could get all the stuff he needed and some things that he just wanted for the sole purpose of entertaining himself when he was alone in the apartment, which, would probably be often seeing as Harry didn’t think he was really qualified for any of the Muggle jobs around.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

When he was done Harry had gotten himself a new laptop, a better phone, an iPod and some of his favourite foods and just a bunch of other things that he decided that he had the balls to give them a try.

 

When he got back to the apartment he opened the door with the spare key Dexter had given him years ago and as he walked inside he was surprised to see Dexter sitting on the couch, hunched over his laptop, looking back and forth between the screen and a folder beside the laptop containing letters and photographs.

 

“You’re home early,” Harry said, looking surprised and setting down all of his stuff on Dexter’s desk.

 

“There was new stuff on the case and I thought I could think much better here,” Dexter muttered, in a tone that implied he was concentrating hard, “there was a lot of chaos at work – Deb gave me permission.”

 

Harry nodded slowly and started unpacking all the food bags, putting the food items where they belonged.

 

Dexter didn’t say anything about why Harry was adding more food and drinks to the fridge. Even though he was insanely curious about what Harry had bought. But Harry just randomly going grocery shopping seemed normal to him. Maybe a little too normal considering Harry had been gone for a while and Dexter would normally cringe at anything so domestic.

 

“What?” Harry asked with a small frown, noticing Dexter staring at him instead of working on whatever was in front of him, “have I done something wrong?”

 

Dexter shook his head, giving Harry a small smile – but even though the smile was small it didn’t mean it wasn’t genuine, “nope,” he said, looking back at the laptop, still smiling, “not at all.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long to update, please forgive me!


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